


Summer of Eden

by Evandar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Light Bondage, Light breathplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He knew Harry was growing up. That was the whole point of him being up here – to get to know the person Harry was becoming – but it was one thing to know it and another thing entirely to actually see it and feel himself respond.</i> Sirius only meant to spend some bonding time with his godson away from the prying eyes of the Order, but Harry is beyond tempting and Sirius has never been very good at saying no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer of Eden

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HPRareFest 2014.

Harry gulped down the last of his pumpkin juice and shoved his chair back. “I’m, er, going,” he said. “Upstairs. Yeah.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at the abrupt departure but didn’t comment. Harry had been acting weirdly all summer, staring and stammering and sloping off to the room he shared with Ron to do…whatever it was teenagers did these days. Stare at the walls and wank incessantly, probably; there wasn’t much to do in this house except for that. Well, that and cleaning. He went back to stirring sugar into his coffee and let Mrs Weasley’s latest rant wash over him.

Okay, so, Harry might have been acting like a teenager, but Sirius was still worried about the kid. He’d been fucked over this summer – Dumbledore’s orders, of course, because that bastard knows best – and he’d got into trouble and there was no doubt in Sirius’ mind that the boredom of this place wasn’t helping.

Well, that and the constant smothering he got now that he was here. Sirius could count on one hand the times they’d been allowed alone together since Harry had arrived. His friends were always there, or other Order members, and Sirius had to play nice and not tell them all to “piss off” so that he could spend some time with his godson no matter how much he actually wanted to. 

Well, now would be a good time, he supposed. Decision made, he stood and stretched, cracking his lower back and sighing in contentment. “’scuse me,” he said, and revelled in the fact that absolutely no one paid attention to him. While he was, theoretically, master of the house, he didn’t matter here – not to mention that Molly Weasley made for an excellent distraction once she got into full flow.

Harry’s door was closed, but unlocked. Sirius gave a warning knock before poking his head in – you know, just in case Harry actually _was_ wanking, which was always a possibility and something he should always consider before entering his godson’s room. Right. Except Harry wasn’t. He was lying on his bed, though, and it looked like he’d been studying the cobwebs on the light fitting. 

“Sirius!”

It was kind of cute how Harry’s voice squeaked and cracked every so often. Ah, youth; something Sirius didn’t miss at all (contrary to popular opinion).

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Uh,” Harry replied, and Sirius took that as a yes. He slipped into the room and closed the door behind him, locking it just in case some well-meaning do-gooder decided that they’d spent too much time together and came to poke their nose in.

“You’ve been hiding up here a lot,” Sirius commented. “And I know it’s not to talk to the portrait.” He nodded towards the blank canvas of Phineas Nigellus. “He’s a boring sod even when he is around. So what’s bothering you?”

“Oh, er, nothing much,” Harry replied. The most unconvincing lie Sirius had ever heard, but he’d get to the heart of it eventually. He was good at that. He nodded though, and sat himself down on the edge of Harry’s bed. Harry shifted, sitting up and folding his legs underneath him. He was at that stretched-out, coltish stage of adolescence: all long, gangly limbs and zero coordination. Half the time, it made him look like a newly born faun trying to stand up, but it was a good look.

“I know we haven’t spent much time together,” Sirius said after a while. “Certainly not as much as I’d have liked to.”

Harry offered him an oddly guilty smile that made Sirius wonder if it was _him_ Harry was avoiding rather than the rest of Dumbledore’s Dream Team.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, Harry,” he said.

“I know,” Harry replied. His voice squeaked again and he coughed. “I know. I just, um, need to think sometimes, you know?”

Sirius grinned back. “Yeah,” he said. He sipped his coffee and watched as Harry’s emerald green eyes tracked the movement avidly. There was a flush spreading across Harry’s cheeks, making his eyes seem brighter; he watched as Harry bit his lip, pearl-white teeth digging into the soft flesh, and he swallowed hard.

His godson was suddenly very, very attractive.

He knew Harry was growing up. That was the whole point of him being up here – to get to know the person Harry was becoming – but it was one thing to know it and another thing entirely to actually see it and feel himself respond. He took a desperate swig of coffee to help him process and lowered his mug to his lap, drumming his fingers against the porcelain.

Harry’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips and his eyes – still fixed on Sirius’ hand – went dark. Sirius blinked and glanced down. His hands weren’t anything special. He had long, slender fingers that were common amongst purebloods, and while his fingernails had finally lost the yellow tinge that Azkaban had given them, they were brittle and uneven lengths; the most interesting things were the tattoos he’d given himself in stolen moments between Dementors. They were runes that echoed the ones on his wand and they’d allowed him – to an extent – perform wandless magic.

Still, unless Harry was secretly a bit too fascinated in runes, his reactions to Sirius’ movements pointed towards a hand fetish. And a crush, which was far more flattering than it should have been. He should back off – maybe make an escape and let Harry hide away like he so clearly wanted to for the rest of the summer – but he…he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to damage the trust Harry had in him by withdrawing and abandoning him; he didn’t want Harry to pull into himself more than he had already. He knew that it wouldn’t exactly be healthy for him to do anything, but he _adored_ Harry and wanted him to be happy and he’d do anything to ensure it.

It helped that Harry was attractive. Very attractive, with his big green eyes and his long limbs and his crooked little smile.

He reached out and ruffled Harry’s hair. Harry stared up at him in shock and Sirius took the chance of his sudden stillness to lean in and press a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Harry,” he whispered against the famous scar. “You just have to be yourself. Don’t think you have to hide anything, least of all from me, okay?”

He left Harry sitting there, staring after him. Things would change, or they wouldn’t; Sirius was betting that they would.

…

It took a week. Seven whole days of lingering glances and half-formed innuendos for Harry to snap – he’d promised himself that it would be Harry who made the first move – and when he did… Sirius was in the drawing room, staring at the family tapestry and the branch _Charlus Potter = Dorea Black – one son_ as if he could will it somehow to life; to make someone – anyone – but himself notice it and question Dumbledore’s latest round of benevolent bullshit.

_”Do not tell him, Sirius. I fear it would be too much for him – better he thinks the Dursleys are his only kin, lest he try to abandon their home. The blood wards there are the safest policy.”_

As if Harry wasn’t capable of listening to things that were actually explained to him.

He was standing there, staring at the _one son_ that used to be his best friend when Harry cornered him, shutting and locking the door behind him before crossing the room and lacing his fingers with Sirius’ own and using that to pull him around and down into a kiss. It was hard and tight-lipped, and Sirius could feel Harry shaking ever so slightly before he took control. He drew away just enough for it to stop feeling like a collision and slipped his arm around Harry’s back to hold him steady; tilted his head more to the side for a better angle and parted his lips to flick his tongue along the seam of Harry’s mouth.

Harry sighed shakily and melted into him, pressing the full length of his body up against Sirius’ own and tightening his grip on Sirius’ hand, flexing his fingers.

He was a smart kid, locking the door, if impulsive for doing it here. Sirius maneuvered him gently, pressing him up against the tapestry and its _one son_. “Tell me what you want,” he said.

“Everything.”

There was neither time nor, if he was honest, patience to do that here. They would have to be quick for now, and in truth, quick seemed to be what Harry really wanted. He was thrusting himself eagerly against Sirius’ thigh, hard as a rock in the confines of his jeans. It wouldn’t take long.

Sirius knelt, unfastening zips and pushing aside denim and cotton, and wrapped his fingers gently around Harry’s cock. Harry gasped. His hips bucked slightly, and Sirius grinned up at him.

“Quiet now, alright?” he said, and Harry shuddered. He nodded eagerly and licked his lips; Sirius winked up at him in reply before leaning in, spreading his fingers over Harry’s belly to hold him still. It’d been years since he’d last sucked cock, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten any of it, and he found himself relishing in the taste and weight of it on his tongue. He swallowed around Harry’s length, earning a soft curse in rely and Harry’s hand dropping onto his head, fisting in his hair and _pulling_.

He’d been right that it wouldn’t take long. For too short a time the only sounds were the movement of his mouth and a soft litany of _“fuck, Sirius, oh fuck, yes”_. He swallowed when Harry came and pulled back slowly, suckling the boy clean and drawing a soft whine from his throat at the extra stimulation. 

Harry pretty much collapsed into his lap when Sirius released him, panting heavily and clinging tight. His hand was still in Sirius’ hair and he used it to guide Sirius into a kiss – more confident now; funny the difference a blow job can make – even as he unlaced their other hands to slip his between them.

Sirius hissed when Harry first touched him through his trousers. It was so, so tempting to let go; to roll them over and fuck Harry into the floor. But no, he couldn’t. For a start, if their earlier performance was anything to go by, Harry would be loud. Second, there wasn’t that much time left – the Order were determined to keep them apart as much as possible.

He pulled Harry’s hand away and broke their kiss to touch delicate kisses to each of Harry’s fingertips.

“What? But Sirius, you –“

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. He’d give Harry a choice again. He had to – he was, _theoretically_ , the responsible one here. “There’ll be time for that later. If you want a later.”

For a moment, Harry looked bewildered. He was beautiful like this – his pupils blown and his lips flushed and swollen from their kisses. Fuck, Harry had been tasting himself on Sirius’ tongue not two seconds ago. His beautiful, debauched godson.

Then Harry blinked. “I told you,” he said. “I want everything.”

…

Sirius pushed in slowly and watched Harry’s expression change in the mirror; watched his red mouth go slack and his eyelashes flutter. Once he bottomed out, he didn’t move. He wanted to do this properly – wanted to leave marks and memories all over Harry’s skin, something to remember him by. Harry’s hips twitched, nudging back temptingly, and Sirius gripped tight with one hand to stop him.

Harry felt so good, too good, but they’d fucked hard and fast before – quickies stolen in the dead of night and hand jobs in hidden corners – and he wanted this time to last.

He slid his other hand up over Harry’s belly to his nipples. He watched as Harry’s gaze dropped in an instant to his fingers and his cock twitched in interest. Sirius took his time, pinching and twisting until Harry’s nipples were puffy and scarlet and a thin strand of pre-cum connected his cock to the sheets below. Harry was panting, open-mouthed, his lips shaping silent pleas for _more_ and _please Sirius, fuck me_. Only the occasional whine escaped him; secrecy had taught him to be quiet.

“Do you want it, Harry?” Sirius whispered, flexing his hips as he spoke and drawing a soft whimper in response. 

Harry’s head lolled back onto his shoulder, arching his back into a taught line and making his thighs tremble. Sirius could barely hear him – “yes, Sirius, yes please, _please_ just _fuck me_ ” – over the pounding of his own heart. Harry looked so beautiful like this, wanton and needy and it was _Sirius_ ’ name on his lips, and Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off him.

He scratched red lines over Harry’s chest and stomach as he began to thrust slow and deep. He wanted Harry to feel it on the train tomorrow; to feel Sirius every time he shifted in his seat. He wanted him to remember when he caught a glimpse of his body when he was changing; wanted to leave scratches and bruises and bites – he sank his teeth into Harry’s shoulder and sucked a mark onto sweat-soaked skin – for Harry to see and to touch when he wanked-off to memories of them together.

He wanted to be the only one Harry thought of.

Harry’s hands, tied so that they were crossed behind his back, began to flutter with every thrust as Sirius continued to neglect his cock. He was making little mewling noises now, nuzzling and pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to Sirius’ jaw, punctuating his mantra of _“yes yes yes oh fuck yeah fuck Sirius”_.

Sirius reached up, moving his hand from Harry’s hip to his throat and squeezing just hard enough to make Harry’s panting come that little bit harsher. He turned his head to catch Harry’s lips in a kiss and watched from the corner of his eye as he scratched a path down to Harry’s prick. He wrapped his hand around it, relishing in the the sob of relief he elicited, and stroked slowly, base to tip, keeping his touch maddeningly light.

Harry was tight around him, his every muscle straining for release, and Sirius had to force himself to hold back; to keep going slow and deep even when he wanted to shove Harry face-down and fuck into his up-turned arse hard and fast until they both came choking on their pleasure. Again. As good as that had been, though, this was better. This was… This way, he could savour every gasp and mewl and flex of muscle.

Harry sobbed into Sirius’ mouth when he finally came, his whole body jerking with the force of it and his bound hands scrabbling. Sirius kept moving, kept thrusting, dragging out Harry’s orgasm as long as he could before he came too – holding still as he emptied himself into his godson, who moaned softly at the feel of it.

He pulled out when he got his breath back and untied Harry’s arms with shaking fingers before lying down, pulling Harry with him and holding him in his arms, breathing in the scent of his hair as Harry shifted and wiggled until he was comfortable.

“I’ve got a present for you,” he said into the silence.

Harry lifted his head. “I thought that was my present,” he said, smiling slightly. His lips were still swollen and shiny with spit and utterly kissable so Sirius gave into the urge, sweeping his tongue into Harry’s mouth and kissing him deeply.

“Different present,” he said when he pulled back. He rolled away and reached for his bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a small, wrapped parcel. He handed it over with a faint “tadah!” that made Harry snigger. “Open it.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose when he saw the mirror that – decades ago – had belonged to his father. “Thanks?”

“It’s a communications mirror – connects directly to its partner, which is mine, when you say the name of the person it belongs to,” Sirius explained.

He watched as the implications sunk in; saw Harry’s expression change from confusion to understanding and then to lust, and he grinned widely into Harry’s enthusiastic kiss.

A mirror wasn’t a perfect solution when they’d be so far apart, but it was better than nothing. It would tide them over until the winter holidays when they would be back in each other’s arms. There was, after all, so many things left for them to explore – Harry had asked for everything.


End file.
